


In The Dark of Night

by literallyjustanerd



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Boys Kissing, Comfort, Fluff, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Kissing, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-07
Updated: 2018-06-07
Packaged: 2019-05-19 09:03:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14870804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/literallyjustanerd/pseuds/literallyjustanerd
Summary: Steve doesn't always sleep so well, prone to worrying about things much too deeply instead of getting a good night's rest. Tony does all he can to help.A short and sweet fluffy Stony one-shot. Features a little sadness and a little comfort.





	In The Dark of Night

"Hey. Steve."  
There was no reply, and Tony's brow furrowed, clearing his throat of sleep and squinting in the dim moonlight.  
"Steve," he called, clearer now, and yet Steve still made no move that indicated a response. All Tony could see was a large, strong back outlined against the window. Skin still bare and toned muscles highlighted in the milky light, Tony watched the steady rise and fall of Steve's shoulders and wondered just what was going on in his mind. Part of him suspected he might still be dreaming: he'd been barely woken upon rolling over and being unable to feel himself sink into Steve's big, comforting arms as he was used to for weeks now, months. When his sweeping hand felt only bare sheets, empty for so long they were no longer warm, his concern had lifted him back into reality, left him in the strange midway point between sleep and wake where the world lacked colour and felt smaller, softer. He forced himself to rise, propping himself up on his elbow and yawning deeply.

Steve had heard Tony calling to him, and yet he was unable to pull himself from his reverie to reply. Only when he heard the rustle of sheets as Tony rose and felt a hand on his shoulder did he give in and turn to look back at the man, dredging up a hint of a smile.  
"You should be asleep," he murmured, and Tony gave a smirk in response.  
"I'm not the one who needs to be worried about right now."  
Steve sighed. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out. Nothing even came to mind. He knew it was pointless to try and assure Tony that he was fine. He'd tried that before, and Tony had become annoyingly good at detecting when Steve wasn't telling him the truth. Silence stretched out, deafening in the pure stillness of the night, and Steve quickly found himself withering under the sincerity of the worry on his boyfriend's face. He turned back around, leaning further forward with his elbows on his knees, and shook his head. Shook his head at Tony, at himself, at his own thoughts, the ones that only seemed to visit him in the dead of night when he had no defences against them. No distraction, no justification, no reason not to allow himself to be swallowed up by them. Tony sighed heavily, ignoring the chill he felt when the covers slipped off him as he moved to Steve's side of the bed. There came a short, sharp sound, clearly intended to be hidden or suppressed. A choked-off sob, shoved down deep in Steve's throat so hard that it hurt. But Tony heard it. Tony felt the telltale quiver of Steve's shoulder, and he tightened his grip in return.

"What was it this time?" The question was grim, and the words are hesitant, a little clunky. He receives only silence in return, but Tony is not discouraged, and instead lets his hand slide down from Steve's shoulder, riding the curves of his bicep, feeling every rise and groove until he found Steve's fingers and laced them together with his. He squeezes lightly, and receives a meagre pressure in return. The two sit together in silence until Tony hears a soft intake of breath beside him.  
"I used to be so sure I was on the right side of history," Steve said, voice barely above a whisper, and yet just as strong, just as passionate as ever. It was something Tony had marvelled at as their relationship had progressed – whether it was a command during battle, a biting one-liner during a heated argument, or a whispered word of affection in the dead of night, Steve's words never lacked their stoicism, were never any less grounded. "It was so easy to know I was fighting for the good guys."  
"You're still doing that," Tony said firmly. "You better be, or else we should probably do some rebranding."

"It's not like that," Steve insisted, frowning deeply with the effort of trying to put his garbled, dizzying thoughts into words. "More and more, there's no clear villain in the wars we fight. When you look at it objectively, when you stop assuming that the word 'Avenger' is synonymous with 'righteous,' it just keeps getting harder and harder to see who's right and who's not. It's all grey area."  
Tony nodded slowly, solemnly. Somewhere out in the night, a gust of wind swept through the trees, rustling the boughs and the leaves as though to stop the two men from forgetting that the world didn't end at the foot of the bed. He glanced up and out the window, overlooking the acres of empty field that surrounded the Avengers compound. During the day, those fields were filled with teammates and trainees, weapons and aircraft, the site of battles both for training and for their lives. Now, however, the hillside was empty, and only broken tree branches and patches of turn-up grass remained as battle scars on the open plain. It seemed bigger in the night, its edges less defined. If the two men wanted, they could easily pretend that the fields never ended, and that they had nothing to worry about in the world except for what happened within the borders of their room.

"I don't mean to say that I don't think we fight for what's right," Steve said suddenly, seemingly the result of worry at Tony's lack of a reply.  
"I know," Tony soothed, smiling gently and tightening his grip on Steve's hand. "I was just thinking how ironic it is that you're so unsure about all this."  
"Why is that?"  
"Because whenever I doubt that I'm doing what's right, I look to you."  
Steve blinked, the creases in his brow disappearing and giving way to a blank, surprised look. He turned to meet Tony's gaze, searching for confirmation, for sincerity. He found it almost instantly in the softness of Tony's eyes.

He always felt privileged to see Tony like that, to be one of the precious few people to ever be deemed worthy of seeing Tony with his guard down, seeing the Tony who was more quiet smiles and forehead kisses and less cynicism and witty comebacks. He could find things to love about both Tonys, but he had to admit that at times like this it was the private Tony he wanted to be around, the one he could see himself falling in love with.  
"You really do that?" he breathed.  
"Of course. God knows nobody on the planet has a perfect moral compass," Tony replied. "It's impossible. It doesn't work like that. But if there's anyone around who I'd put my trust in, it's Captain-goddamn-America."  
"But h—"  
"But nothing. You're a great man with good judgement. As long as you feel you're on the right side, that's the side to be on. And it's the side I want to be on, too."  
A smile tugged at the corners of Steve's mouth. A small and fragile one, but a smile nonetheless. It was always a surprise to him just how weak he was against Tony's words.  
"There it is," Tony grinned, leaning in until their sides were touching. "I knew I could get one out of you." Steven glanced down sheepishly and nudged Tony in the side.

"I know it's hard," Tony continued. "That's the game. It's not supposed to be easy. But if you stop fighting for what you believe and start second guessing yourself, then you're letting every bad guy out there win. And you're way too strong to let that happen."  
He leaned over to press his lips against Steve's cheek. Steve sighed heavily, and in an instant pulled Tony into a near-crushing hug. All too happy to oblige, Tony sank into the embrace, arms wrapping snugly around his boyfriend as they sank back into the pillows below them.  
"I'm lucky to have you. You know that?" Steve said softly, his breath warm next to Tony's ear.  
"Oh, of course. You should thank your lucky stars and stripes every day," Tony quipped back, and Steve's chest shook with a silent breath of a laugh.  
"I mean, what other boyfriend is good enough to—"  
He was cut off by one of Steve's fingers under his chin, guiding his lips up to meet Steve's own. He gave in to the kiss, returning the pressure and snaking his hands up to settle with one on Steve's shoulder and the other tangled in his perfect blond hair. He didn't even try to hide his disappointment when Steve broke the kiss, an almost childish whine escaping his throat.  
"Why'd you do that?" he demanded. Steve flashed a sly grin.  
"Just wanted to shut you up," he gloated.

Although Tony was disgruntled at being beaten at his own game, he had to admit there was something amazing about some of his own sardonicism rubbing off on his boyfriend. He rolled his eyes, reaching down to pull the sheets back over them both. Steve chuckled to himself at Tony's reaction and settled further into the bed, one arm folded behind his head. Tony curled himself up at Steve's side, head resting on his chest.  
"Night, you big hunk of boy scout," he mumbled, already feeling sleep set in once more. Steve smiled, and let his other hand trace up and down Tony's back, fingers drawing abstract shapes on his bare skin.  
"Goodnight, Tony."


End file.
